The scribblings of a widower in his sixties who has discovered the therapy of the written word. Join me on my journey from grief to satisfaction and how I eventually got there.
About me
I am a sixty-five-year-old widower, (In 2023). I discovered writing to cope with the grief of losing my wife of thirty-five years to cancer. I began by writing my first short story, The Slow Cooker (Link to the story here).https://scatterbrianblogs.com/the-slow-cooker/
This was followed by a story about each of the five stages of grief. Here I am, over one hundred and fifty stories later and four novels in progress.
Follow me on my journey, whether you’re a fellow sufferer or just keen on a story.
READ MY NOVELLA; THE PAINTING, FREE!
Read how a young Scotsman falls in love with a woman in his dreams, to discover that she exists when he meets an old Egyptian painter. Read about how their meeting saves the world from nuclear war.
Today’s Story
The Tip.
Yesterday was a good day. I did something useful, a rare occurrence these days.
I filled up my little car with unwanted stuff and took it to the “Household Waste Recycling Centre,” commonly known as The Tip.
When I arrived, the helpful man on the gate checked my appointment on my phone and my address on my driving licence before asking,
“Wot yi got?”
I hesitated, initially because I failed to understand what he’d said, but a quick translation and I got it. He was asking what kind of waste product I was carrying.
Following my answer of, “some cardboard, a couple of small electrical items and some general (waste)” he kindly indicated where to park.
To cut a long story short, I proceeded to deposit the contents of my tiny Renault Twingo into eight different skips, a couple to which I was ignorant of their existence, (hard plastic and TV monitors) embarrassing for someone who once owned a waste management company. (I told you it would be boring, Princess, you’ve probably stopped reading now.)
Following my trip to the tip, I took a short drive to McDonald’s. The whole exercise was quite pleasant. So much so that I decided to reciprocate the love for a beautiful Arab woman, not for the first time.
The difference on this occasion is that it is not in person. The feeling is more ethereal, but real nevertheless. It enables one to appreciate life again, have a purpose and most importantly, be creative.
Creativity is a magical thing. However, it is also extremely fragile. For example, on declaring my love, at least three stories came to me immediately.
Unfortunately, creativity is also fickle. It can appear and vanish in seconds, too quick for the mind of a fellow in his sixties. Consequently, two of the stories disappeared as quickly as they’d manifested themselves.
It is exciting times though, I can finally move on and live my life of solitude in the certain knowledge that she loves me.
Here’s to the future💙
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Read my other stories from past days.